Love In a Hopeless Place
by Zurey
Summary: With truth serum in her veins, Anna Ivanovna, a former Black Widow, is interrogated by Natalia Romanova about the man with the metal arm. Anna recounts her time in the Osiris program and her relationship with Winter Soldier. Her only hope is that by the time she's done talking he hasn't managed to locate her…and take her head back to where it all started. AU/Slowburn/Pre-CA:WS
1. Prologue

**All rights go to Disney's Marvel and their respective partners. **

**Warning: Rated M for profanity, graphic violence, and sexual content. **

**Quick notes about this story: Based on MCU Captain America films. Elements used from Marvel comic books. Takes place during post-Captain_ America_: _The First Avenger_ and pre-_Captain America: Winter Soldier_, Winter Soldier/OC. OC based on Natasha Romanoff and Elektra Natchios.**

* * *

**Prologue**

"Anna…Anna. Wake up."

Anna raised her head, her eyes squinting from the bright light beaming from above. The blurry film over her vision lifted, but the room swayed to and fro. After a few moments, the grey walls came to a still, and she found a red-headed beauty sitting behind a white table, her arms folded across her ample chest.

"Natalia," Anna greeted, the hoarseness of her voice grating to her ears.

"The effects of the truth serum will wear off in twelve hours," Natalia assured, her American accent smooth and impeccable.

Anna slumped back, her body heavy from the sedative they'd rudely injected into her arm. Her senses came back to her like a gentle wave, a discernible pressure appearing around her wrists and ankles. The scent of leather lingered in the air. She didn't bother to test the restraints. Natalia had spun her web, and Anna wasn't leaving any time soon.

But it didn't hurt to try. At least, not always.

Lolling her head from side to side, Anna glanced at their new environment. A few hours ago, she'd been cooped up in a stuffy interrogation cell at some SHIELD headquarter. Now, she sat in a room with decent ventilation and a thin grey sheet that was meant to pass as wallpaper. Behind Natalia's lithe figure loomed a door with an intricate palm reader for a handle and the wall to Anna's right beamed with bright surveillance screens that hovered above a busy control panel.

She quirked an eyebrow at the top-right monitor.

"I did not know SHIELD had such good taste," she said, referring to the luxurious furniture in the dining room section of whichever safehouse they decided to stuff her in. Her eyes narrowed. "Is that a _Persian _rug?"

"We're at one of my _personal _safe houses," explained Natalia, her eyes never leaving Anna.

"Oh!" Anna's eyes flicked down to the metal chair beneath her, her restrained hands smoothing over the armrest as if they were suddenly made of the finest Italian leather. "I am flattered."

"You should be. I broke fifty-two SHIELD security protocols and thirty-eight international laws to move you here. If I still have a job by the end of this, I'll be lucky to be doing front desk."

"Ha!" Anna clucked. "That, I would love to see."

Natalia shot her down with a hardened stare, making the smile on Anna's face fade into a fine line. All business, and no fun, it seemed. She might as well have stayed with SHIELD.

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Anna slumped back. "What do you _want_, Natalia?" After days of constant questions and threats, she'd grown weary. Not because they'd worn her down, but their lack of tact and skill made her want to tear her hair out. Honestly, how was SHIELD still in business? "Why am I here? I have told your SHIELD agents all that I know of the Hand and Hydra. I am officially a dead woman. So if you do not mind, I would like to spend my last days in a country _not _in the western hemisphere."

"This is a secure location. You're safe."

Anna scoffed. "Since when did you become so naive?" She rested her head against the frame and let her eyes rove around the room once more, looking for any possible exits. She spotted a vent in her peripheral, located at the left-rear corner of the room. "And when did you begin working for _SHIELD_?"

Too narrow, she decided, even for her size three figure. Her eyes flicked back to the spy when she didn't receive an answer. A smirk crawled across Anna's face. "Or are you working both sides again, Natalia?"

No one ever really knew where the Black Widow's loyalties laid. One day, it was the Russians, the next, the Americans. And then sometimes, it was no one. Anna felt a tinge of jealousy. She could play the game just as Natalia did—make a few friends on the other side, kiss a few asses—but it was too late for her. _Baba Yaga_ would find her sooner or later.

"Can we begin?" Natalia asked. "Or are we going to be amateurs today?"

Anna cocked her head to the side and wondered what had Natalia's web so tangled. It wasn't like her to rush an interrogation.

"Someone's in a hurry…"

Natalia provided no comment, verbally or physically. Clearly, whatever she wanted answering couldn't wait, and even Anna understood the repercussions of testing the great Black Widow's patience.

So she sighed and sat up straight in her chair. She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders, limbering up for one of the worst pains she'd ever endure—or so they said. The truth serum in her veins would apply a strain on her body when she resisted. Some people claimed it felt like a horrible cramp, others claimed it was like infusing battery acid. With any luck, she'd simply faint from the shock.

"What would you like to know? I am, as they say, an open book."

"I want to talk about the man in the black mask."

Anna flinched, her muscles tightening at the non-question. "I don't get a warm-up?" she complained.

"I thought you were an open book."

She glared at Natalia. So that was how it was going to be.

Clearing her throat, Anna accepted the challenge. She took in a deep breath and refocused. The truth could be manipulated, twisted, and turned within its own relative terms. As long as she held a clear, focused mind, she could deflect any question.

"There are many men in black masks," she said. "You're going to have to be more specific."

An eight-R sized photograph landed on the table, and Anna held her gaze on the other woman. If she so much as glanced at a picture, she'd be done for. The bitch wasn't pulling any punches.

With a manicured fingernail, Natalia tapped on the photo. _Tap-tap_. "The man with the metal arm."

Anna's resolve slipped in the form of a single eye twitch.

"There are many men with metal arms." Her thoughts skimmed through mental images of known associates with the description. She grimaced at the memory of a particular individual. "Even Wolverine has metal beneath that coat of fur he calls arm hair."

A smile cracked across Natalia's flawless visage. "That's good, Anna. The more you resist the serum, the harder it'll be to stop the truth from spilling out when it does."

Anna turned towards the monitors when Natalia's elegant hand reached for the photo. _Is that a Don Felipe armoire? _

With a turn of her wrist, the photo was placed face-down. She reached beneath the table and then produced a brown folder. It landed on the table with a flop. Anna's eyebrows furrowed at the sound. It'd been a light drop, but still...how the hell had they managed to build an entire folder on him?

Her curiosity grew.

And then she remembered her mistake. _Oh, blyad! There are many men with metal arms_, she reminded herself. _Wolverine. Colossus. Cable. Doctor Doom_. She recited the names of heroes and villains alike to wash out the thought of anyone in particular.

"Who is he?" Natalia demanded, cutting through her thoughts, the sternness in her voice leaving no room for arguments.

At that, Anna breathed easy. She turned her head to face forward, her shoulders relaxing as a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. She had an answer—a simple and easy one. "I do not know."

Natalia's face remained unperturbed—stoic and beautiful, like a portrait. However, Anna could sense the vexation rolling off her like steam. "And yet he was protecting you."

She shrugged. "Secret admirer, I suppose. I have quite the Twitter following."

Turning her hand over, Anna examined her maroon-polished fingertips with casual interest and frowned when she noticed a chipped nail.

"He killed thirteen SHIELD operatives in less than five minutes," Natalia insisted, as if Anna would care. "He nearly killed me."

Metal screeched across the tile floor as Natalia stood from her chair and lifted her black, Cordura jacket. A hand-sized gauze covered the area below her left floating rib. A non-lethal target, Anna noticed.

If he wanted to kill you, he would have, she wanted to say. The serum made certain of clawing at her skin as she resisted the urge.

"No one has ever gotten that close." Natalia pulled the fabric back down with a harsh tug.

Anna smirked. "Bye, bye, bikinis."

Natalia shot her a pointed look. "_Somehow_," she continued in a clipped tone, "our Intel never picked up on him. And no recognition software on the planet can identify this photo. He's a complete ghost. The best I've ever seen."

Anna wondered about the contents of the photograph. Did the mediocre and prosaic intelligence officers of SHIELD actually capture his essence? Unlikely. The red-head had to be bluffing.

"You, of all people, should know we are _all_ ghosts."

"Not like this."

"I do not know who he is," Anna snapped. The only thing more pestering than being interrogated was being interrogated for information she didn't possess. At least during the former, she'd have some fun evading their efforts. "That is the truth. Next question."

Natalia sighed. "Plausible deniability. I do miss the basics." She sat back down, pulling the chair under her, and then opened the folder. Anna averted her gaze, humming the theme song of_ I Love Lucy_ in her head while Natalia read through the datasheets. "What I _don't _understand is why the house was already broken into when we arrived. Security was bypassed remotely, and the east window was practically dismantled."

She turned another page. "Unless…" Her hand paused, and then her green eyes lifted from the folder. "Unless he was there to kill you."

Anna's wrists jolted within their restraints, her hands curled into fists and nails dug into her palms. She squeezed her eyes shut, bearing the excruciating coil of her muscles.

"Why would he protect his target?" Natalia continued in an even tone, as every inch of Anna's body, from those in her feet to the ones in her neck, tightened into horrible knots until she swore she would snap in half. Her abdomen clenched so hard she wouldn't need another core workout for the next century. "Why would he go through all that trouble of getting through your death trap of a house only to stop at the last minute?"

A strained scream escaped between Anna's clenched teeth as the back of her head slammed against the chair frame. Battery acid, she decided—fast-acting battery acid. Her eyes flung open. The fluorescent light above burned her retinas as drops of saline fell down her cheeks.

A heavy silence and her pained whimpers filled the cold room.

"I take no pleasure in this, Anna," Natalia said after a few moments, "but we both know there's a reason you refused to disclose this information to SHIELD."

Anna let out a pained laugh. If only she knew the kind of vermin that infested her beloved SHIELD. With tears stinging her cheeks and teeth clenched, she endured the pain for as long as possible.

And then some more.

A long time passed before Natalia spoke again. "Your nose is bleeding, which means you're going to have a brain aneurysm in the next three minutes. And then a minute later it will burst. I can only hope to get you to the nearest hospital before it kills you."

With a quivering body, Anna lowered her head and locked eyes with the placid women—her thick, auburn fringe bringing out the deep, evergreen color of her eyes. SHIELD couldn't be trusted as long as Hydra controlled the inner workings of the organization. But she did trust Natalia, as much as she hated to admit it. After all, the spy defected from the mother country for an archer.

"This information does not leave this room," she strained to say. "Swear to me. Swear to me, or I will return from the dead again, and this time…I _will _kill you."

Natalia stared at her for a long time, contemplating the deal. Then responded with a reverent nod. "You have my word, _kuzína_."

Anna's body thrust forward as she gave in to the serum. Sweet relief washed over her taut muscles and skin like a cold shower on a hot summer day.

"He didn't kill me"—her labored breaths blew at the strands of chestnut brown hair hanging over her face—"because he is confused."

"Confused about what?"

She lifted herself and leaned her head back against the chair, releasing a tired sigh. She looked at Natalia, trying to deduce whether it was the right or left hand that the palm reader recognized.

"About everything," she replied. "I think he is fighting it."

"Fighting what?"

"Whatever _poison_ Hydra put in his head!"

Anna's brain went for a spin, and a few seconds later, she found herself over the armrest, ready to dispel the contents of her stomach—though, she doubted there were any. S.H.I. hadn't been very good hosts. She wondered if the tile flooring beneath her feet could truly hold the nails bolting her chair down.

The thought drifted away as she remembered the warm look on his face when she touched his cheek.

"I think…I think he recognized me."

He could have buried his twelve-inch K-Bar into her chest at that moment, right before SHIELD barged into her living room with tranquilizers and restraints. But he didn't.

"You _care_ about him." Anna hadn't noticed she'd been smiling. She turned her head to find Natalia staring at her with a look of candid disbelief, her eyebrows raised and lips parted. The palms of her gloved hands pressed onto the table as she leaned forward, her eyes examining Anna as if she'd morphed into a completely different person before her eyes. "I knew something was different about you."

"You know nothing, Black Widow."

Natalia's eyes narrowed. "Who is he to you?"

Anna's jaw clenched as the strain returned to her neck and shoulders, pouring down on her like scalding water. She waved her hand at the photograph. "Turn it over."

A moment later, her eyes landed on a blurred silhouette perched on the edge of a scaffold. To the untrained eye, it resembled a dark smudge or cast shadow—both easily dismissible—meaning whoever captured the photograph must have done so by accident. Maybe a tourist snapping random pictures, or a foreman taking record, otherwise, if he'd classified them as anything other than a civilian…they would have never returned home that day.

SHIELD had him, nonetheless. The silver-tone of his arm was as clear as day. She smiled and shook her head. She warned him about the shine, but he never listened. Her wrist tugged against the leather restraint as she reached for the photograph.

So close…yet so far...

An ache grew deep within her chest the longer she stared at it. Anna could sense Natalia watching her, studying her, but she didn't care. What did she know? A Black Widow only ever cared for herself and her mission. Isn't that how the Red Room trained them to be? Objective, calculative, and cold? Wasn't that how _she_ was supposed to be?

Maybe…if Anna had been more like her training, she wouldn't have failed him.

She swallowed hard as she tried to rid the knot forming in her throat, but it was no use, tears fell down her cheeks for the second time that day. Long ago, she would've found the reaction appalling and then retreated into the Himalayas' relentless and solace mountains, but Natalia was right. She had changed. She'd cried more within the last few decades than her entire life. All tears shed for the same reason.

"He's nothing to me," she said in a low voice, the ache in her chest clenching around her heart, "and everything."

"What's his name?"

"I do not know his true name," Anna replied, taking in the photograph one last time before turning away, "however, Hydra calls him their Winter Soldier."

"Hydra was eliminated in the forties."

The corner of Anna's mouth quirked upward. "Were they?"

Natalia's hard gaze dropped to the table as she pondered the question. After a long moment, it lifted. "Tell me more."

Anna hesitated. Hydra had eyes and ears in every crack and corner of the world, and as good as Natalia was, she still couldn't avoid the consequences of knowing too much. Even spies had pay-grades.

"SHIELD agents are being compromised and assassinated across the globe," Natalia persisted. "By someone that doesn't leave witnesses or traces." Photographs, datasheets, and incident reports shrouded the tabletop as Natalia tossed them out like candy. "Intel tells us that it's not AIM or HAMMER."

Anna skimmed over his work with an unfazed demeanor—although, she had to admit he was working rather fast.

"But someone's dog is off their leash."

The thought of gnawing off her restraints and leaping over the table to snap Natalia's pretty little neck flashed across her mind. Instead, she shot her a contemptuous glare. "Do not call him that _ever _again."

"He's slipping through our fingers," Natalia continued, unperturbed. "And I know nothing about him, Anna. No one does. I need your help."

"Why would I help you? What do I care about all this?" She gestured to the plethora of useless documents with a dismissive wave. "What do I care about SHIELD?"

Natalia stared at her, her green eyes piercing.

"He's not after SHIELD," she said, "but you already know that…don't you?"

Anna shifted in her seat as the serum goaded for an answer. She didn't bother fighting it.

"Let him come," she huffed. "I am dead already."

What did she care if he found her? Eventually, someone would because no one could run forever, and believing otherwise was foolish.

_And yet, Anna, you're the greatest fool of them all_, a voice whispered from the back of her mind. _Falling for the enemy. Tsk, tsk. So cliché._

She wondered where he was now, and if he thought of her as much as she did of him. She scoffed inwardly. Of course, he did. He thought of her every moment he scoured the planet for her head.

"Anna…I know you have no reason to believe me when I say this, but your safety is all I care about. I _will_ protect you."

Anna sat silently as her mind grasped at fleeting memories of their time together in the Red Room. Images of dark corridors and cold rooms appeared along with the scent of cedarwood. Fluffy, pink skirts swirled and twirled, and then a loud snap! The sound of a cane hitting bone echoed from the back of her thoughts.

She licked her dry lips. "I have told you once before, Black Widow. The person you knew is gone. Anna Ivanovna died in Japan all those years ago."

Natalia shook her head. "I refuse to believe that, especially now that there's a chance you've regained part of your soul," she lifted the photo and examined it for a moment, "because of this Winter Soldier."

She rolled her eyes. Natalia was the fool, and it'd be the death of both of them. She dropped her gaze to the sheets scattered across the table. He was hunting, that much was clear. The precision and efficiency was his trademark, but the lack of conspicuity was not. The destruction, the bodies—the _carnage_ he left behind was too rushed, too _emotional_, as though he were desperate to find her.

A smile stretched across her face. Hydra's grip on their most valuable asset was slipping again.

After a few minutes, Natalia slipped the photograph into the folder before setting it aside. Her face became stone again as she continued the interrogation. "Tell me about him. Tell me everything."

There was no point in prolonging the inevitable now.

"Very well," Anna began. She faced forward to meet Natalia's determined gaze. "The Hand and Hydra had a very _short_-lived alliance in the late fifties. Together, they developed a program. The Osiris program."

Natalia nodded. "Murdering mutants to build a zombie army."

Anna quirked an eyebrow. She thought Hydra would've buried that information in the deepest bowels of hell.

"Fury asked me to look over some classified archives when I first joined SHIELD," Natalia explained. "I didn't understand why at the time...but I do now."

Fury and his little secrets ran deep, it seemed.

"I objected to the alliance, of course," she continued. "Hydra could never be trusted, but my Master thought otherwise. Therefore, the Hand sent their best _asashin_, and Hydra sent their best _soldat _to collect them."

"Crimson Widow and Winter Soldier."

Anna smirked. "We made quite the team."

"If that's true, then why is he hunting you?"

"I betrayed them."

"Why?"

Anna paused. "It…it is a long story."

"We have time," Natalia assured and then gestured to the door. "Should I make us coffee?"

A smile stretched across Anna's face. No, they didn't have time. Not when it came to the Winter Soldier.

"Only if it is Russian," she replied.

And Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow, smiled back.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_"After their fall, Hydra went to the Hand seeking protection, and in return, they shared their science and technology, which brought a new age to the Hand. We could finally change the world as we saw fit...well, as _they_ saw fit. I...I don't remember much from those early days. Only glimpses. Fragments. I'm sure you can understand. Do you go by Natasha or Nat now?"_

With little effort and no noise, Crimson Widow slinked her way up the mountainside, her nimble hands grasping at the rock until she reached the edge of a perch that overlooked the valley. She pulled herself up into the air and then landed on the dirt, her body as light and quiet as a feather.

She stood to her full height, her eyes landing on the two figures hidden beneath the black of night—Echo and Lady Bullseye. Two of her best warriors.

"Why are they here?" Lady Bullseye asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

"They're moving in," Echo replied, her words drifting into the cool breeze.

"I'm aware, but _why_?"

"Because the Grandmaster deems it so." Their heads turned in Crimson Widow's direction, their calculative gazes assessing her quickly before they dipped their heads into a curt nod. She strode forward, trading a knowing look between the women before her eyes settled on Lady Bullseye. "And it is _not _your place to question him," she added.

"Forgive me, _Masuta_." Lady Bullseye bowed her head, her dark hair resting in a thick bun atop. "I was only curious."

Crimson Widow let her hardened gaze linger a while longer, just to get her point across. She took the time to notice the new, blatant design curving over Lady Bullseye's suit. Most of the Hand's acolytes wore the traditional attire—loose and colorless garments—but Maki had earned her name three months ago, along with the liberty to dictate her own attire. She'd chosen the name _Lady Bullseye_ in honor of that lunatic Bullseye, of whom she enjoyed boasting about regularly, and if that wasn't blustering enough, she'd chosen a one-piece with a giant, obnoxious black-and-white bullseye stretched across her body. It was a sleek design, but too flashy, and _not_ traditional.

Crimson Widow turned away and brushed past them. Lady Bullseye never cared much for tradition. She did what she pleased—within reason—and Crimson Widow didn't care. As long as the woman served, she could run around in a loincloth if that's what she wanted. She arrived at the edge of the perch and lowered herself to a crouch, her arms resting on her knees. Down below, surrounded by the immense range of the Hida mountains, rested their village. The intense yellow glow of oil lanterns illuminated the space between the _Minkas_ and the thoroughfare that stretched uphill towards the grand dojo. Such bright lighting was forbidden to conceal the village's location, but tonight they'd made an exception.

"I do not know why this is happening," Crimson Widow said after a long time. The Grandmaster hadn't bothered to inform her of the transition up until a few days ago. "But Grandmaster Bakuto is wise." She could feel Lady Bullseye and Echo trade a look. With a roll of her eyes, she relented, "_speak_."

Lady Bullseye was expectantly the first to complain. "This is _absurd_," she huffed. "Inviting these Nazi scum into our home is an insult to our way!"

"I agree," Echo said in her light tone.

Maya spoke on rare occasions, and only in Crimson Widow and Lady Bullseye's presence. Over the years, she'd grown familiar with their manners, enough to discern meaning through their movements. Her deafness did not impede her in the slightest. However, Crimson Widow still wondered how the woman could read someone's body language when they were still as a statue, and their mouths were concealed behind a mask.

She guessed the same could be asked of her ability to sense someone's presence within a thirty-meter range, not that anyone _would_ ask because no one dared question her.

Maya had also chosen her name, but long ago—_Echo_ for her gift of mimicry. Her chosen attire was efficient and straightforward—a sleeveless top revealing the lower half of her torso, black trousers, and grey hand-wraps that reached above her elbow. Not much different from Crimson Widow's suit, except the only skin she exposed was the top half of her face.

She chose to say nothing to the girls' comments because nothing short of ordering an assault would appease them. Instead, she watched as large, military trucks continued to bulldoze into the village, crushing yellow Chrysanthemums beneath their crude tires. Men, _German_ men, scattered like ants with complete disregard to the tended grass and bushes. They leaned against aged columns, their broad arms folded across their puffed chests as they chatted freely, as if they weren't standing in one of the most sacred places in the world. The village had no name, and no one, other than the Grandmaster, knew how long the structure had stood within the boundaries of the mountains. Thousands of years, perhaps—not that these Germans cared. They had no respect, not for their own people or the world because they were Hydra. A festering infection on the planet.

If Crimson Widow had her way, she'd line them all up on their knees and cut their heads clean off their shoulders.

The infestation continued to pour in as more soldiers and scientists clad in olive-green suits passed through the wooden gates, along a dirt road and veered to the left. They'd been given the west section of the village which hadn't been used in decades, and contained the least housing—permitting them to set up their great tents and facilities. It bordered the most towering peaks of the Hida Mountains, so if the Grandmaster ever decided to revoke their stay, they would be trapped between the mountainside and the rest of the settlement.

Like sheep to the slaughter, she thought.

"They are to be treated as if they were our own," Crimson Widow asserted with a tone that left no room for arguments. "Now, report."

"So far, they have delivered forty-seven trucks, two hundred men, and many machines we cannot identify," Echo informed.

"Anyone important?"

"No."

"I suspect they'll bring their officials once they're certain we won't kill them in their sleep," Lady Bullseye added.

Crimson Widow turned her head to the side. "Which we _won't. _Right, Maki?"

The silence stretched for a moment before Lady Bullseye agreed with a low sigh, "right."

The girls observed their new neighbors for the next five hours, remaining unmoved and indifferent, like gargoyles on a pious temple. Trucks, people, and machines continued to arrive. Security personnel increased every thirty minutes, signaling the potential appearance of more integral arrivals. They logged every new person and activity into their sharp minds, working to find patterns and weaknesses in their organization—anything to get the upper hand. At the sixth hour, the narrow, wooden boards the men placed across a ditch at the entrance of the village began to shudder, but the trucks continued to hurtle on in droves across the flimsy wood.

All three women cocked their heads to the side as they saw the commotion before it began. As expected, a board slipped out of place and sent a truck almost tipping over before settling into the deep ditch. The tires landed with a loud splash and splattered mud across a nearby bystander. He gesticulated angrily, cursed at the wind, and then stormed off.

"I'd be happy to put him out of his misery," commented Lady Bullseye.

An angry roar vibrated through the air as the truck revved with all its might, its rear tires churning the wet mud and flinging it backward. Men collected around the scene, shouting orders at the driver. One went as far as to attempt to insert the boards back in place, only to fail. The truck continued on, thrusting forward and sliding back. Over and over again. Every attempt to escape the trough of dark-brown sludge as futile as the last.

Crimson Widow smirked beneath her silk mask. Little did they know that that particular dike had been created for that exact purpose because vehicles were forbidden in the village. The girls watched with amusement as a growing tail of cars trailed off into the distance, and men scrambled about like chickens. She figured she should've ordered some of her people to assist them out of their pathetic predicament lest they call her a terrible host. Perhaps even show them a bit of Japanese hospitality. Germans enjoyed _Sake_, right? Yet, she did nothing. Their struggle was the most entertaining thing she'd seen in hours. Why stop it?

And besides...she was Russian.

Maybe next time, the Grandmaster would inform her of visitors with enough time for accommodations. Then_ perhaps_, she would do something about the ditch.

A dour-looking man who had been shouting the most shook his fair-haired head in annoyance before storming off. He made his way down the line of vehicles and then stopped behind a particular truck. With an unnecessary grunt, he flung the backdoors open, both slamming against metal.

Crimson Widow perked up. The back of the trucks had yet to be opened. From her view, a scrawny, pale man with swept-over brown hair sat on a bench inside, his hands clinging onto a leather suitcase pressed against his chest. He scowled at the intruder, who released a flurry of commands, his broad arm pointing aggressively to the front.

The dark-haired man argued back in fluent Russian, his head shaking with displeasure. "No," he snapped, "find another way."

The two bickered on like dogs, and a bulging vein gradually swelled along the German's forehead until finally, the smaller man relented with a reluctant nod. He moved off the back of the truck, movements awkward and stiff, his briefcase never leaving his side. He was thinner than she thought, and by the looks of his thick eyeglasses and freshly polished Stacey Adams shoes, he was no soldier. Someone important. Crimson Widow etched the details of his face into her memory.

Moments later, someone else followed him out. A man with dark, shoulder-length hair, clad in all-black, stepped off the edge. His black boots landed on the dirt with a loud thud.

"They need help in the front," the thin man said to him. "Apparently, a field of soldiers is not enough to solve anything these days."

It'd been a long time since Crimson Widow heard one of the motherland's northerner dialects. She couldn't remember exactly how long nor did she care, but the graze of a hazy memory edged around the corners of her mind at the thought, and then faded away. As did all those long-forgotten memories of another life.

With a curt nod, the man in all-black cut through the crowd of soldiers, his steps deliberate and stride controlled. People drifted aside to let him through and watched as he took a moment to assess the vehicle's rear.

"They maintain their distance," Echo commented. "They fear him."

She was right. The soldiers around him stiffened at his proximity, and when he lifted the rear of the truck with one arm like it weighed nothing, they all but flinched. Crimson Widow felt the girls shift behind her, but they said nothing. Only watched as a human preformed the near impossible.

The vehicle moved forward without another complaint, and Hydra's progress continued.

After a few seconds, Lady Bullseye spoke. "He is not human," she said. "He's one of those _mutants_. We should inform the Grandmaster."

"No," Crimson Widow interjected. "We _wait_." The Grandmaster was wise, and if he condoned the perversion, then she wouldn't question it.

She watched as the German and Russian fell into a discussion, their demeanors tense but cordial, while the dark figure loomed over them with an imposing presence, his shoulders squared and legs evenly spaced.

Crimson Widow eyed the newcomer. Using the energy that flowed within her like a gentle storm, she stoked it like a fire and let it ripple over her body until her skin tingled with electricity. Then like a taunt slingshot, it shot forward, into the air and down into the valley. It latched onto him, embedding itself into the invisible field encasing his essence. In a few seconds, she'd know what rested in his soul, light or darkness, and if he was human or not. Non-humans tended to have a higher level of internal energy.

But she saw nothing, _felt_ nothing as if she were trying to read a rock.

Odd, she thought, and then tried again.

A minute passed before she felt something, a gentle stir, slow and weighty like an ocean wave as his energy shifted around him, but the tension remained impermeable.

And then it crashed against her, nearly severing the spiritual conduit.

His head turned to the side, dark hair shielding his face as if he could sense the intrusion. When she pushed further, the muscles of his back flexed beneath his tactical suit.

Crimson Widow narrowed her eyes. Was he...was he _resisting_ her?

With a smooth shift of his feet, he turned and faced her. A pair of pale, blue eyes locked with hers, their icy, lifeless orbs piercing. She felt it then, the utter coldness and emptiness of his soul.

As if he were dead.

"He sees us," Echo hissed. "That is impossible."

Crimson Widow had to agree. She was linked to The Beast, the Hand's demigod, and all its infinite power. How could a meager Hydra lackey detect her insertion?

"What are you looking at?" The Russian asked when he noticed the soldier's glower. "What is it?"

"We are being watched," he replied in the same dialect.

The Russian looked off in the distance, his beady eyes squinting as he tried to see through the darkness. "Bah," he said with a wave of his hand. "Ninjas. You will have to grow used to them, Winter Soldier. Come, we leave."

Winter Soldier stared at her for a moment longer before turning away to follow his comrade back to the truck. The connection broke.

_Well, that was interesting._

"Are you certain we're not allowed to kill them?" Echo asked.

"Grandmaster Bakuto made his orders clear," Crimson Widow replied, rising to her feet.

Lady Bullseye scoffed. "_Grandmaster. W_hat a joke."

Crimson Widow would have admonished Maki for the blatant slight if she wasn't busy thinking about the soldier. Did Bakuto know about this? If he did, what was the purpose, and why hadn't he told her? Why did he insist on keeping her uninformed? Ever since he was inaugurated as the Hand's new leader, he'd done everything to oust her, from discrediting her at every turn to alienating her from the clan. He sent her across the world for nearly a year, and now Hydra was moving in.

Something wasn't right.

Crimson Widow turned around to face the girls. As the Hand's Master Assassin and the Grandmaster's right hand, it was against propriety to openly question his decisions, even if she didn't agree with them.

"First darkness, then?" Echo asked.

A smile stretched across Crimson Widow's face. Fortunately, she didn't have to. Bakuto was Grandmaster, but Lady Bullseye and Echo were loyal to _her_ and followed her without fault. That was something he never understood. Loyalty was earned, not given.

His orders were indeed clear. They were to treat the newcomers as their own...which included finding out all their dirty little secrets_. _

"Through the trees," Crimson Widow replied.

"Just like the old days," Lady Bullseye said, "when _ninja_ meant something around here."

"Enough. Let us meet our new friends."

The girls bowed their heads and then ran past her. With perfect form, they flipped into the air and disappeared over the edge. The last thing to cross her mind before joining them was the Winter Soldier's cold, hard gaze. She'd seen it before...in her own reflection. It came from a place of pure darkness...of destruction and death...a hopeless place.


End file.
